she's lost control again
finally mustered up enough courage to write something.
general "official back to work time of the year" depression.
been watching British comedy to cheer me up a bit. mostly "A bit of Fry & Laurie". brilliant.
last friday went to film premiere for "Control" by Anton Corbijn. he attended, as well as Sam Riley and Alexandra Maria Lara (who are an actual item apparently. how disappointingly banal.) having never been a Joy Division fan myself, i wasn't really expecting much from it. so when Corbijn declared in his pre-film speech that it wasn't a film about JD but rather a film about Ian i grew kind of more curious. sadly my expectations never materialised as Ian's childhood and teenagehood is only briefly mentioned in about one minute and a half at the beginnig, with only the shortest mention that he actually married Debbie. this was probably meant to emphasize on the fact that Ian himself never really talked much about it and decided on a whim, but i thought this was supposed to be a film about his private life? then the part about Joy Division was wearyingly aesthetic, if that makes any sense. i mean too many long shots about nothing at all and silences that don't really mean anything. all in all the film at the same time said too much and not enough. at least not what i had expected. not a bad film per se, but simply not my cuppa. i might actually have been able to enjoy it more had i been a Joy Division fan to start with. but apparently the original version of the film lasts more than 3 hours so there might be more about Ian's formative yearsin there. in any case seeing this film hasn't changed my mind about neither band or frontman. after the showing the audience was allowed to ask the actors some questions, who were all desperately dull. we could also have disposed of the loony elderly woman three rows before us who kept reacting loudly to the film and made an alarmingly passionate 15-minute diatribe about youngsters committing suicide on the microphone. about 200 pairs of feet shuffled in embarrassement, and we left the cinema with the intention to go to this club where they were holding a Factory-themed party in honor of Tony Wilson. only to find upon arrival that said club was closed, despite the corresponding poster up on the door in full view. ended up grabbing drinks at the Truskel nearby.
on saturday i went to this festival in suburban Paris, la Fête de l'Humanité, which is held every year by the French Communist Party, to celebrate at once political resistance and good music. it's been going since 1930, and has been able to attract the biggest names on their bill, among others The Kinks or The Who. this year they had Razorlight and Iggy Pop. the former proved once more an outright pop brilliance performance, Johnny Borrell, despite the naysayers, really knows what he's doing, and i am not one to argue that he does it very well. the latter shot straight into my Top Ten of Worst Audience Experiences, in terms of pushing and shoving and obnoxiousness of audience members. unfortunately it has prevented me from fully enjoying the actual performance. luckily, the festival as a whole was the ultimate festival experience, complete with greasy chips, inappropriate footwear, dehydration, losing sight of friends amongst crowd and nightmare endless trekking to get to location and back.
on sunday we went to the now traditional Pub Quiz held at my local bar the Motel, to have our more or less extended musical knowledge tested. ranked in at 8th team out of 12, mean feat when you consider that teams who win are all mates with the people writing the questions, week in, week out.
on monday i attended a small intimate live radio session by my pet band The Bishops, who delivered as per usual an immaculate and heartfelt performance, causing once more lips to smile, heartstrings to be tugged and hands to clap uncontrollably. at the end of the performance it took a label lady to pull me apart from the band members and i left in the bitter realisation that someone had somehow stole my umbrella as it was pissing down outside.
this week my friend Sadie from Sheffield is in Paris so expect more nighttime in Paris shenanigans to appear soon!
general "official back to work time of the year" depression.
been watching British comedy to cheer me up a bit. mostly "A bit of Fry & Laurie". brilliant.
last friday went to film premiere for "Control" by Anton Corbijn. he attended, as well as Sam Riley and Alexandra Maria Lara (who are an actual item apparently. how disappointingly banal.) having never been a Joy Division fan myself, i wasn't really expecting much from it. so when Corbijn declared in his pre-film speech that it wasn't a film about JD but rather a film about Ian i grew kind of more curious. sadly my expectations never materialised as Ian's childhood and teenagehood is only briefly mentioned in about one minute and a half at the beginnig, with only the shortest mention that he actually married Debbie. this was probably meant to emphasize on the fact that Ian himself never really talked much about it and decided on a whim, but i thought this was supposed to be a film about his private life? then the part about Joy Division was wearyingly aesthetic, if that makes any sense. i mean too many long shots about nothing at all and silences that don't really mean anything. all in all the film at the same time said too much and not enough. at least not what i had expected. not a bad film per se, but simply not my cuppa. i might actually have been able to enjoy it more had i been a Joy Division fan to start with. but apparently the original version of the film lasts more than 3 hours so there might be more about Ian's formative yearsin there. in any case seeing this film hasn't changed my mind about neither band or frontman. after the showing the audience was allowed to ask the actors some questions, who were all desperately dull. we could also have disposed of the loony elderly woman three rows before us who kept reacting loudly to the film and made an alarmingly passionate 15-minute diatribe about youngsters committing suicide on the microphone. about 200 pairs of feet shuffled in embarrassement, and we left the cinema with the intention to go to this club where they were holding a Factory-themed party in honor of Tony Wilson. only to find upon arrival that said club was closed, despite the corresponding poster up on the door in full view. ended up grabbing drinks at the Truskel nearby.
on saturday i went to this festival in suburban Paris, la Fête de l'Humanité, which is held every year by the French Communist Party, to celebrate at once political resistance and good music. it's been going since 1930, and has been able to attract the biggest names on their bill, among others The Kinks or The Who. this year they had Razorlight and Iggy Pop. the former proved once more an outright pop brilliance performance, Johnny Borrell, despite the naysayers, really knows what he's doing, and i am not one to argue that he does it very well. the latter shot straight into my Top Ten of Worst Audience Experiences, in terms of pushing and shoving and obnoxiousness of audience members. unfortunately it has prevented me from fully enjoying the actual performance. luckily, the festival as a whole was the ultimate festival experience, complete with greasy chips, inappropriate footwear, dehydration, losing sight of friends amongst crowd and nightmare endless trekking to get to location and back.
on sunday we went to the now traditional Pub Quiz held at my local bar the Motel, to have our more or less extended musical knowledge tested. ranked in at 8th team out of 12, mean feat when you consider that teams who win are all mates with the people writing the questions, week in, week out.
on monday i attended a small intimate live radio session by my pet band The Bishops, who delivered as per usual an immaculate and heartfelt performance, causing once more lips to smile, heartstrings to be tugged and hands to clap uncontrollably. at the end of the performance it took a label lady to pull me apart from the band members and i left in the bitter realisation that someone had somehow stole my umbrella as it was pissing down outside.
this week my friend Sadie from Sheffield is in Paris so expect more nighttime in Paris shenanigans to appear soon!